


Morning Finds You

by EllieMurasaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_bitesized, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic and mix: five songs of Sam's that Dean likes and why he likes them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Finds You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/gifts).



> Mix is [here](http://spnbitesized.racingmoonlight.org/elliemurasaki/fanmix/morning_finds_you.zip). Title from "This Tornado Loves You" by Neko Case.
> 
> Minor spoiler for S6. Contradicts other spoilers for S6. Caveat lector.

5\. Neko Case — This Tornado Loves You

_Carved your name across three counties  
Ground it in with bloody hides  
Their broken necks will lie in the ditch till you  
Stop it, stop it! Stop it, stop it!  
Stop this madness  
I want you_

Every time Sam goes crazy, it's directly attributable to Sam wanting Dean and not having him. Even when Dean was there and it was the demon blood sending Sam over the edge, it was because of Dean, because Sam wanted to kill the people responsible for the not having Dean part of the equation.

4\. Heather Alexander — March of Cambreadth

_Fight until you die or drop  
A force like ours is hard to stop  
Close your mind to stress and pain  
Fight till you're no longer sane_

Sam's fucking terrifying when he's crazy.

3\. Rock Plaza Central — Anthem for the Already Defeated

_They can take our fists  
And chop them off at the wrists  
And we will shake our arms with bloody stumps  
And we cannot be defeated_

St. Sam Winchester, patron of lost causes. There's nothing Dean would put past him now. Nothing.

2\. Green Day — Boulevard of Broken Dreams

_I'm walking down the line  
That divides me somewhere in my mind  
On the borderline  
Of the edge and where I walk alone  
Read between the lines  
What's fucked up and everything's all right  
Check my vital signs  
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone_

Dean went to grab a box of ammo out of the Impala's trunk to replace what he'd emptied into bullseyes drawn on trees outside town—should find an actual gun store; wouldn't do to have the shiny clean identity Sam put so much work into be caught at a gunrunner's—and noticed the tarp was askew. Dean flipped up the tarp and opened the trunk and the disarray wasn't how he'd left it. Dean picked out an assortment of weapons and tossed back the tarp, and there was a long lean figure sprawled awkwardly across the front seat, as though he'd been sitting shotgun and passed out.

Dean eased the driver's door open; at the squeak of the hinge, he twitched but didn't wake. Dean dipped the wooden tip of a match in the holy oil to put a dot on the back of his hand (the box of family photos was open at his feet and he was clutching one of them; Dean could see the top half of a Christmas tree, which meant it was probably the one with a red bow on Mom's baby bump), then struck the match. The sound got open eyes, though only long enough to see the dashboard and Dean's hand. Dean touched the match to the holy oil and watched it flare to life, just an ordinary grease fire, none of the pyrotechnics from when Castiel firebombed Michael. That got a whimper. Dean pressed the flat of the iron blade to the flame, no air to keep the fire burning, and nothing sizzled or evaporated, and when Dean turned the blade edge-on, a thin red line rose up and that was it. Dean tried the silver knife, then the demon knife, then rinsed off the blood and the burn with holy water, nothing nothing nothing.

1\. Alabama — Love in the First Degree

However Sam had come back, it hadn't involved having his body reassembled at the molecular level by an angel, because the long scars on Sam's forearms were still there. And there wasn't anything immediately obviously physically wrong with him, but there hadn't been any physical problems after Groundhog Tuesday, either, and Sam had looked just as shitty then as he looked now. But he was here, he was _here_, present and alive and _real_.

Should let him rest, really. Peaceful sleep was a luxury Sam hadn't had in a long time, would gradually stop having as his neural structures realigned to account for information stored in virtual memory while the hardware was...wherever Sam's body had gone.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean murmured, easing the photo out from under Sam's hand, and the next moment he was across the garage with his head ringing, looking at Sam unfolding himself from the Impala. Sam stared, blinking, and then they were crashing together, clinging like neither ever planned to let go.

This wasn't the first time Dean had had to acknowledge sexual desire for his brother, then let it slide on by before it could do any damage. But it was definitely the first time Sam had caught him at it.

_Now babe I'm not begging for mercy  
Go ahead and throw the book at me  
If loving you's a crime  
I know that I'm  
As guilty as a man can be_

Dean hadn't planned on ever falling in love. (Well, Cassie, but that blew up in his face, so she doesn't count.) (Lisa, but there's a difference between falling and jumping, and in any case some idiot put up a railing at the edge of the lovers' leap.) His heart had rooms for Mom and Dad and Sammy, post office boxes for a handful more people, and Ben dug himself a bunker and refused to leave, and that was it.

All Dean could think here, now, with Sam's arms tight around him and Sam's eyes locked with his, was _Oh. Huh._

Can't fall to somewhere you've always been.


End file.
